


Oh, but for the want of destiny

by writteninhaste



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-08
Updated: 2010-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-12 12:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninhaste/pseuds/writteninhaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames once constructed Carthage in a dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, but for the want of destiny

Eames was born a gentleman; the heir apparent to an Earldom. Later, Eames joined the army – but that is not the beginning of this story.

It starts, as so few stories do, with a general. A general who had two daughters: one beautiful, one visionary. Eventually, this becomes Eames' story. But for now, it is hers.

Dreams are always out of reach. The general's ever-reaching child learns this when she is eight. It is her birthday and nobody is admiring her dress. Her younger sister has just lost a tooth. And that is far more interesting.

That night, a girl – eight years, no months, no days – goes to sleep and builds an empire in her dreams. She is a queen and she cuts Snow White's heart out from her chest. Because power comes in many forms. But beauty will always trump sovereignty – that is simply the world's way.

oOo

It becomes Eames' story when he is nineteen. He is studying at Cambridge, an officer in training, and he falls in love with an unremarkable visionary. She is smart and self-effacing and her wit cuts deep. She whispers in his ear about dreams; drags him into bed and then along for the ride.

Eames stands on a field of grass as before them Troy is engulfed in flames. Behind them crumbles the library of Alexandria and Cicero is preaching from the rostra. The woman who stole him from his bed is laughing in his ear and she is more beautiful in this world than is possible in reality. But it is an ugly sort of artistry. Eames falls out of love just then – just a little bit.

Two years later and only one daughter is left. The general is left mourning a twisted, hateful visionary who carved off her own face so dissatisfied was she with reality. Eames tells the general about dreaming; wonders aloud if the woman he only half-loved ever thought to use it for something other than destruction. What would happen, the general asks, if they could take armies to war and not risk a single soldier dying? Eames thinks it might be grand – but he doesn't say it out loud; could not stand to face another hysteric revolutionary.

The army miscalculates. Killing and dying, day in and day out, is too much for most to bear. The general wanted his soldiers better trained; better prepared for the mental agony of war. What he gets is a host of men; all broken, mad or dead. A handful, come out intact. Eames is one of them. Privately he questions the 'intact' part.

England washes her hands of the whole affair; throws the PASIV into the ocean. When America rescues the programme no one bothers to say 'watch out'. They are all secretly hoping that someone else will be able to fix the problems.

The general sends Eames when the American's lose one of their best to a dream. He does not serve the army anymore but that hardly matters. He remembers what it felt like, believing he loved an ugly prophetess, and he cannot tell her father 'no'.

There is another soldier down there with the boy they do not wish to lose, but the officer in charge of operations only seems to care about one of them. Only years of discipline stop Eames hitting the man.

The consultant is an old man and an architect. And that is something Eames has never seen before. They say it gives the dreams more structure, makes them last longer. Eames can see them begin to think that dreaming is impossible _without_ an architect. He does not correct them.

Eames goes down. He finds the men – one sure that he is dreaming, the other not convinced. The one they want to save is turning a glimmer of red between thumb and forefinger. The other is ranting furiously at a man he believes to be insane. Eames shoots him between the eyes. The consequences are something he will have to live with for years.

oOo

Arthur is the golden boy of the army. Eames loves him, and hates him, and is indifferent to him all at once and all immediately. Out of uniform, Arthur dresses like he has money – but not as though he came from it. He is too well-pleased in his sharp suits. Eames has known the whisper of rich fabrics since he was an infant. It is not the clothes that make the man. This brilliant, greedy boy has not learnt that yet.

Arthur does not hate Eames. But he is too English, too disillusioned; too world-weary for Arthur's tastes. Eames tells the boy to stop playing the cynic – it does not suit him. Arthur scoffs and affects world-disdain. He is a stunted man-child; has killed but never loved. He does not understand when Eames tells him his existence is a half-life. Love is not necessary for a glorious career in the military. Eames has shadows in his eyes and talks about love as though it is something to be cherished and avoided. There is a reason we once lit fires to chase away the dark, Eames tells him. Love is what waits in the shadows, waiting to consume us. Arthur laughs and turns away. Love is far too pedestrian an emotion to claim him.

Eventually, America retires from the realm of dreams. Eames is released back to England's arms and he goes, taking a PASIV with him. Behind him, Arthur remains – huddled in a room with the architect's beautiful, French daughter and the man she married. They are preparing to take on the world together and Eames wants no part of it.

Eames steps out of Heathrow into the rain. The taxi takes him to a small, new grave. He stands, soaked to the skin, and he can still taste shared meals cooked from cheap food, too close to its sell-by date. The wind carries the memory of laughter and the crack of text-books hitting a desk; shoes in a shop window that were wanted so badly but did not quite fit. Eames remembers building Carthage in a dream and watching a cackling harpy tumble it into the sea.

He creates his first forgery the next month and the woman he impersonates has the eyes of a visionary. Arthur tells him not to look so dead inside.

Eames spends less than half his working life in dreams. The real world holds enough possibilities for a gentleman-thief and he has responsibilities. Occasionally, someone wants him to forge and most of the time he will oblige. But there are times when he says no; times when he thinks if he goes under he will try to tear apart the world around him. He never says no to Arthur though.

Not even when he should.

oOo

It is too easy to fall in love.

Arthur is sharp and smart and younger than Eames. He is nothing like she was; he is exactly the same. Arthur does not connect emotion to his dreams, refuses to drag Eames into bed but still takes him along for the ride. Eames grows to dislike Arthur even as he becomes accustomed to the twist in his chest whenever the golden-boy smiles that brittle, victorious smile.

Eames loves Arthur just as much as he dislikes him. The two exist in equal measure. Hate does not enter the equation. The emotion is obsolete these days. Eames almost wishes he could hate. But Arthur has grown with the passing of the years. He still wears his suits with too much conceit; still scoffs at love and cannot comprehend what it means. But he has mentors and a self-constructed family. He is extraction's golden-boy and he is one of the few Eames would choose to save. Eames loves him with a bitter, brittle ache. It is an old wound, worn deep. A regular application of salt keeps the memories from healing.

oOo

Arthur will never love Eames. He cannot – does not – understand what love means to Eames. Arthur watched his parents love each other all his life. What Arthur knows of love is warm and safe – and so far removed from anything that interests Arthur as to be another world entirely. The love Eames describes holds more appeal but still, for all that Arthur's tried, he cannot love with the same soul-curdling devastation that drives Eames.

Eames lives off the memory of an ordinary, jealous girl who had extraordinary dreams. He loves her ghost because he cannot function without her haunting him.

Arthur has no desire to love Eames. To love Eames is to damage him – one cannot be distinguished from the other. And Arthur refuses to inflict more pain. He has killed a hundred men, but he will not hurt this one.

**End.**


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